ONE
Spring 1769
Paris
Madame Cosette Binet DuBois pulled back the drape and gazed out at the window in the dance studio. It was late afternoon as a gaggle of ballet dancers flocked across Paris’s Rue de Rivoli to the Théâtre des Tuileries to prepare for the evening’s opening performance. A smile touched her lips as her fingers toyed with the tiny ruby slippers dangling from a velvet ribbon tied around her neck.
Fourteen years ago, she was one of those girls leaving for the theatre, facing an opening night performance, primed, eager, anxious, and scared.
Her students needn’t worry. Like her predecessor, the ballet mistress prepared her students well.
“Did you have a good day?” Avery Parsons DuBois, her cherished husband and Artistic Director of the Paris Opera Ballet School, stood at the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes. I have one or two things to finish before we leave.”
Cosette let the drape fall back into place and turned toward him.
“It was a particularly good day. With all the excitement, their practice went well.” The vision of dancing with her students cleared from her mind, replaced by reality. Cosette Binet, world renowned prima ballerina, would never dance again. She had the heart but no longer the physical stamina or fitness.
With the help of her Avery, Cosette’s legacy to the art she loved would be transferring everything she knew to her students. She attacked the challenge as she did everything in life, wholeheartedly. The passion and love for her art was only surpassed by her passion, love, and devotion to her husband. His deep, soothing voice was her elixir. He alone made the pain of her body and soul bearable.
“If you need to finish the accounting, I can go ahead. You can meet me at the theatre.”
She ran her hands down her skirt, pretending to chase away the wrinkles. The man was forever detained with some company business. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to cross to the theater. It was steps away. Cosette walked to the door and stood in front of her husband. Her Avery. She danced into his arms while rehearsing before her audition. By the time he spoke to her she had already fallen in love with him.
With Avery’s help she had gone from a mere seamstress who dreamt of dancing to become one of the ballet world’s renowned prima ballerinas. And when she retired, he confirmed her legacy to the art she loved so much. Avery converted the small room in the studio into a salon and demanded it be magnificent and lavish with tapestries, sculptures, bronzes, and paintings. He commissioned artisans to carve the wood paneling with gilded scroll trim. All the things they acquired during her dance career elegantly filled the room. There was a small dining table, and comfortable chairs in intimate groups to encourage conversations.
Even when her stamina began to fade, she was determined to continue with the ballet company. Avery insisted she reduce her schedule, but he still found her in the rehearsal hall with her students. He added a chaise lounge in her sanctuary for her to rest, to keep her close to her students, and to him.
He smiled at her now. “No, princess.” With gentle encouragement, he took her into his arms. “The hand of the famous Cosette Binet will be on my arm as I escort her through the throng of her admirers. I will be the envy of everyone.” He kissed her forehead. “I won’t be long. I noticed Monique in the private rehearsal room. You are a hard task master. Worse than Claude ever was.”
“Monique’s a talented dancer. I do not push her. She requires it of herself.” Cosette understood a dancer’s demand for perfection, especially Monique’s. She recognized the dancer’s hesitancy was bound up in self-doubts. If she believed in herself and trusted her skills, she would perform like no other dancer on that stage tonight.
“Ah, and I know what you see in the girl. I see it, too. How can I miss it? I look at her and see you fourteen years ago.”
Cosette stepped out of his arms. “I’ll speak to her unless you can use your latent druid powers and convince her it’s time to leave for the theatre.”
“If I had that kind of power I wouldn’t squander it on a nervous student. I would—”
Cosette put her finger on his lips. “No need to say anything. I know what you would do.”
“And what would I do?”
Cosette tilted her head and stared at him. “Make all those papers go away so you and I can enjoy Monique’s first solo performance. The girl is quite accomplished. But you do disappoint me.” She shook her head and raised her fine arched eyebrows in protest. “All these years I was sure you were a great druid magician.”
“You thought I was a knight.” His pursed lips and twinkle in his eyes sent a spark of delight racing through her.
“Like your ancestor, the druid grand master, Maximilian.” A deep sigh escaped her. “We haven’t been to England or Fayne Manor in a long time.”
He pulled her closer. “What I would give to be the druid grand master and make you well.”
Cosette nuzzled the perfect spot against his neck. “You can’t fight all my battles. Some I have to do on my own.”
“When did you ever let me help you with any of your challenges?” He held her away and gazed into her eyes. “Oh no, princess, don’t paint me with that brush. You, my dear, are a formidable woman and the world’s greatest ballerina. I am humbled by you.”
“You were my artistic director and with that magic, you made me what I am. Go. Finish your papers. I don’t want to be late.”
She stepped out of his arms and already missed his warmth.
“The papers can wait. I’ll get our coats and meet you at the practice room.”